


put me in the big house

by Byacolate



Series: what's your rush [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Meet the Family, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt can’t tell if the free refills are restaurant policy, or if every server across the continental United States is just that enamored with Hermann’s accent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put me in the big house

They manage to take most of the fall off to visit family if only because certain members of their families have threatened bodily harm if they don’t. They spend October in England, mostly because Hermann has a small army of nieces and nephews who have apparently been fed several anecdotes by their parents about Hermann’s legendary Halloween costumes. (These are stories Newt pulls from a room full of tipsy, cackling Germans while Hermann sits mortified beside him, cradling an Irish coffee and clearly wishing slow painful deaths upon them all.) Thanks to the war, none of the children have ever experienced Hermann’s creative mastermind for themselves, so he’s dutifully keeping his promise to dress them all up.

 

There are twins that don’t even reach Newt’s thighs who want to be a drift compatible Jaeger duo, and when Newt tells them conspiratorially that they don’t even have to pilot a Jaeger to know that they’re compatible, they crawl into his lap with a thousand questions on their tongues.

 

Everybody knows about Newt and Hermann’s drift. It wasn’t publicised for mass media, but they still share a ring around their irises and people talk. If they think a lot of time is spent discussing the drift to college students, it’s nothing compared to the fretting issued by Hermann’s mother. Hermann’s siblings stare at Newt like they’re trying to suss him out, good natured yet cautious, but their children are bursting at the seams with no small amount of hero worship. Their uncle drifted like a Jaeger pilot, and he did it with a _Kaiju_ \- to them there is nothing more badass.

 

Newt remembers Hermann practically jamming the machinery over his own head after demanding to share the neural load despite all of his many misgivings, and he privately agrees.

 

Hermann helps nearly all of the children with their costumes except one, the youngest of all, who decides that rather than a bumblebee, she wants to be Dr. Geiszler. Her reverence for the color running up and down his arms is so weirdly touching that he offers to paint her up straightaway. Hermann watches Newt take his glasses off and put them on her tiny round face and his chest feels overfull.

 

When they are driven to the airport in early November, Newt is given his first welcome-to-the-family hug and kiss fest and it leaves him a little dazed, a little overwhelmed, and then the hoard of Gottliebs move on to sweep Hermann off his feet and crush him between their bodies in the middle of Heathrow airport. There’s some honest to god blubbering in there somewhere, mostly from the burliest German men Newt has ever seen, and he decides he’s definitely in love with the Gottliebs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They spend November in America, but it isn’t at all like Hermann’s cozy family reunion. For Newt, there is only his father and his uncle and his cousin in a small apartment in the Northeast, so to stave off the itchy feet and cabin fever they’d have had within a week, he takes Hermann across the country.

 

Determined to do the road trip thing right, Newt buys a road map big enough to spread all the way across the dash and shoves it in the glove compartment for occasional reference. They eat at roadside diners that have Hermann’s lip curling at the state of the restrooms, and they sleep in cheap motels where the showers only run hot 40% of the time and the blankets are too thin to _not_ sleep tangled in each other. They buy snacks and sweaters from cheesy souvenir shops across the midwest. They stay in one little town in Kansas for a whole day just because there is a drive-in theater playing old monster movies. It’s a little pointless, considering they spend most of the movie necking like teenagers, but Newton insists that was part of the plan all along.

 

They reach the west coast after a week and travel north, where it grows colder and colder the closer they get to the Canadian border. It’s a chilly morning in Washington where they’re pondering over the worn map in a Waffle House, thinking of doubling back through Colorado that Hermann murmurs, “What about Hawaii?”

 

“Whuh,” Newt says through a thick mouthful of pancakes. He swallows under Hermann’s baleful glare and articulates, “Hate to break it to you, Hermeister, but we can’t really drive to Hawaii. We just don’t have the technology. Or maybe we do, just not on hand.”

 

“Not _now_ , you imbecile,” Hermann sniffs, taking a delicate sip of his sweet white coffee. It’s his third cup of the morning. Newt can’t tell anymore if the free refills are restaurant policy or if every server across the continental United States is just that enamored with Hermann’s accent. It could be his little English pleasantries or the way he smiles with gratitude when their orders are fulfilled, too, but if that’s the case it’s clear they don’t hear all the insults Hermann’s throwing _his_ way. “For the wedding.”

 

Newt doesn’t think he’s actually heard Hermann ponder publicly about wedding plans before. It feels almost like progress. He watches Hermann scrutinize the little group of islands in the corner box at the bottom left of the map and just sort of reaches out to touch his wrist. Over the rims of his reading glasses, Hermann peers up at him. “Hawaii, you think? That’s a little cliche, isn’t it?”

 

“It was only a thought,” Hermann says primly, folding the map away and curling his long fingers around the coffee mug. “I’ve never been.”

 

“I’ll take you,” Newt blurts, flinging his arms out. His elbows whack the plastic back of the booth. “Ow, _Jesus_. We can sniff it out. See if that’s what we want.”

 

“Oh?” Hermann is trying so hard to hide his little smile behind the Waffle House mug, and it isn’t working one bit. “I think I’d like that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t announce their engagement because avoiding hassle is Hermann’s top priority. Newt isn’t sure he gets it - he’s seen the way Hermann’s eyes light up when the word _fiance_ comes up in conversation, no matter who it may be in regards to, and he goes soft around the edges at the talk of weddings - but Newt respects it.

 

For as fond as Hermann is of the whole wedding shebang, he absolutely isn’t interested in making a fuss about his own. Hermann wants something quiet, private. Something intimate. Which Newt is a thousand percent on board with for numerous financial and personal reasons. (One perhaps being that he’s never known someone with a flashy wedding to have made it last - but saying that out loud would make him seem far more insecure than he would let on, so he says nothing at all.)

 

In truth, they don’t really ever talk about it. They don’t have a particular date or any sort of schedule, no perusing catalogues or trying to decide who to invite. The only indication Hermann gives that he took Newton’s proposal seriously at all is the way, just a handful of nights, he’s lain curled against Newt on a hotel mattress or their parents’ guest beds and _said_ something. Something about finally seeing Newt in a tux (“You like my leather jacket best, don’t even front, Herms.”), or something about how they could possibly beat sultry summer nights in Spain for their honeymoon (“We could go back to France. I could shower you in cheese and baguettes - only the finest for you.”).

 

It isn’t that Newt is impatient for it - he’s still trying to find the right kinda ring online, something befitting a man like Hermann Gottlieb. He’s got to find a suit. He’s got to make sure they have a date that will fit in with their full schedule in the coming year. He’s possibly stressing out a _little_ bit and maybe Hermann makes it a teensy bit worse by not worrying about it at all.

 

After all, isn’t Newt the one who was more or less apathetic to it in the first place? Isn’t this all for Hermann’s sake? Why is he getting butterflies thinking about what song to make their own - to pull Hermann across the floor to for the first time as a married couple? Why is he up at two in the morning with a mouthful of Hermann’s hair and five icy toes wiggling their way between his legs drawing out wedding vows in his head?

 

Newton Geiszler doesn't have a fuck to give about weddings and marriage in general. Absolutely, completely doesn’t care one way or the other. And if  he’s got thirty-something Swiss silversmiths and their ring portfolios bookmarked on his laptop, well. That’s nobody's business but his own.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Newt’s dad might actually be physically incapable of not bragging about Newt’s early accomplishments. Every certificate, award, diploma, degree, and doctorate cover the hallway walls in sturdy frames like medals of valor. And the way he gushes to Hermann about it makes it so obvious how long he’s been waiting for someone to brag at who can understand the enormity of what Newt has accomplished ( _his_ words, god, if Newt ever says anything like that just throw him in a vat of Kaiju blue), and also cares enough about him to listen. Hermann doesn’t get bored or try to change the subject either. It’s so much worse - he gets _quizzical_. And there’s a terrifyingly beatific smile on his face that Newt knows is gonna spell trouble for him later.

 

Seriously, Newt loves his dad, but this is the reason he’s never brought any of his scant few partners home.

 

Little Nancy Geiszler is in love with Hermann. Of course she is - she’s seen his nude body on webcam. And they share common hobbies like mathematics and coming up with creative new ways to make Newt want to punch himself in the face. She’s sixteen and only just five feet tall thanks to the Geizler family height deficit, which makes her seem like a particularly articulate child - Newt thinks that’s why Hermann lets her cuddle up to him on the couch. She’s always been a tactile kid, much like Newt himself, so he isn’t really surprised that she manages to worm her way under Hermann’s skin so quickly. And it makes him dopey with how pleased he is seeing two of his favorite people sit sandwiched together on the sofa watching some nerdy documentary on astrophysics that Newt falls asleep during right away. He wakes up an hour or so later draped over both of their laps, but notes smugly that they only complain about it after they notice he’s woken up.

 

Newt’s uncle is away on business - he’s a trucker, and that tends to keep him away from home more often than not, but they’re used to it. Hermann seems disappointed to have missed him. It warms Newt’s heart a little bit to know that meeting his small family is so important to Hermann. He kinda loves him a lot for it.

 

They stay in Newt’s childhood bedroom, which is fifty shades of surreal because he’s in his thirties, and he’s been through so much since the last time he’s stayed here. He’s hooked himself up to a couple kaiju brains and saved the world with his sexy grandpa of a boyfriend, who also happens to be _spooning_ him in the bed that witnessed his first orgasm, god, what is his life.

 

Well. Hermann’s arms are pretty nice around his chest and his tricky leg is kinda precious where it’s tucked between Newt’s for warmth, so. His life’s pretty great, actually.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You look really good. Foxy,” Newt says in the doorway of his father’s kitchen at an ungodly hour of the morning Thanksgiving day. Four. Who wakes up at four and leaves the bed too cold and lonely to fall back asleep in? Who could possibly be that cruel? Only one man in the entire world, and he’s wearing Newt’s too-big MIT hoodie in front of the open fridge. There are dark circles under his eyes that could easily be fixed by a few more hours of sleep, but Newt has a feeling it might take more than begging and manhandling to get Hermann back in bed. “What’re you doing up?”

 

“I thought I’d get a head start on dinner,” Hermann mumbles, turning back to the fridge to scrutinize its contents. “There is so much to be done, Newton. Do you know how long it takes to cook an entire turkey?”

 

“Uh.” Newt pulls out his phone to Google it. Hermann snorts. “Do we even have a turkey in there?”

 

“I thought it would be rude to ask,” Hermann says, brow furrowed. “But I cannot seem to find a bird anywhere.”

 

Newt pulls Hermann away from the fridge and gently shuts the door. “Yeah, that’s probably because we don’t usually do turkey. Don’t give me that look, Americans aren’t all one gluttonous hivemind. Dad’s a vegetarian, my uncle’s diabetic, and Nancy has trouble digesting mushroom soup. That severely limits us on most traditional holiday meals. Plus, you know, kinda symbolic of the genocide of millions. Usually we just order an unholy amount of takeout and watch I Love Lucy reruns until we pass out.”

 

“I see.”

 

Either the lack of sleep is getting to Newt, or Hermann really does look disappointed. Newt grins a little stupidly and rubs his face into the back of Hermann’s shoulder. “We’ll make something later, okay? Corn, pies, stuffing, the works. The old man’ll have a huge breakfast waiting for us if we get a few more winks. My little devil of a cousin will sneak some bacon on the skillet when he’s done. It’ll be awesome. Come back to bed?”

 

“I suppose I should,” Hermann muses. Then he’s smirking and clapping Newt on the shoulder. “After all, I’ll probably need all the energy I can get to listen to your father recall your entire school life in lurid detail.”

 

“Oh my _god_ , shut up and get back in the bedroom,” Newton hisses, and Hermann just laughs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re probably gonna end up with a dog one day.”

 

It’s late enough in the morning for golden light to peek through the cracks of Newt’s blinds. But there’s no rush despite the time, no pressing need to get up and go. Hermann’s spent the last ten minutes drifting in and out of consciousness with the gentle rhythm of Newt’s thumb tracing the veins criss-crossing the back of Hermann’s hand. “What on earth would we do with a dog?” he rasps, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “A cat would be far more suited to our lifestyle.” A little disgruntled noise trembles in his throat when Newt wiggles his way half out of Hermann’s grasp and turns to face him instead. Perhaps if Hermann pretends to be asleep, Newt will follow suit.

 

“No, c’mon man, we’re gonna be two old, queer, cranky assholes by the time we finally settle down. The only hope of redemption we’ll have is to adopt _anything_ but a cat.”

 

Hermann thinks that maybe if he narrows his eyes far enough, Newton will stop saying stupid things. It hasn’t worked so far, but he’s always willing to try.

 

“We would have to be stationary for a dog,” Hermann explains slowly. Newt rolls his eyes so hard it must hurt.

 

“Yeah, no shit. One day we’re gonna have to slow our roll, don’t you think?”

 

_Oh._ “Doctor Geiszler,” Hermann purrs, splaying his palm down low over Newt’s abdomen. “Are you suggesting we settle down?”

 

“Whuh -”

 

“Has all of this... _family_ bonding got you in a nesting mood? Are you getting broody, darling?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re actually _this_ big of a dick.”

 

Hermann laughs, scratching his nails over Newt’s ribs. It’s so warm and cozy in Newt’s nest of blankets with the morning sun bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow, and Hermann can imagine what might have come over Newt to encourage such sentiment.

 

“A dog,” he hums thoughtfully, tracing the monster tattooed over Newton’s breastbone. “I would have taken you for a reptile man.”

 

“Wow, are you seriously giving permission for me to set up a bunch of tanks and a reptile habitat in the basement of our hypothetical future home?”

 

“I think you’ll find you’ve embellished that entirely.”

 

Newt makes like he’s going to shove Hermann off the bed, which is a very real possibility considering the narrowness of it, but Hermann shoves back. As it happens, that particular action backfires completely - as Newt starts to fall over his side, he has a hand around Hermann’s sweatshirt and takes him down with him. Mostly. Hermann’s balanced awkwardly with his legs splayed over the bed, half tangled in blankets while his chest has landed on Newton’s pelvis much closer to the floor than he’d like. Newt is in hysterics, nearly upending Hermann he’s laughing so hard, and he doesn’t stop even when his bedroom door is opening and Nancy peers down at them both.

 

“Ugh.” She wrinkles her nose. “You’re gross. Both of you. Aren’t you supposed to be grown men?” Which only has Newt laughing harder and tugging at Hermann until he’s falling off the bed in a heap on top of Newt.

 

By the time Hermann’s righted himself, Newton's cousin has thrown up her hands and closed the door, as if leaving them to their own devices is the appropriate thing to do. Hermann doesn't know how to feel about that; he'd like to think Newt is the only lost cause of the two of them. “Yes,” Hermann grunts, pulling himself back up on top of the bed while Newt struggles to breathe on the floor beside him. “I can see why someone as antagonistically playful as you would want a dog.”

 

“Shut up and help me not die,” Newt gulps, wiping the tears from his face. Hermann does no such thing. Somehow Newton manages to survive anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Perhaps someday they _will_ have a dog. They might live in a house all their own where pictures and diplomas cover the walls - not so big that it will feel empty when they are alone, but not too small to comfortably suit their rambunctious families. Perhaps the red matching rings around their irises will fade, or perhaps they will remain to accompany the silver ones around their fingers.

 

Newt might attend more rallies and protests once the world is more focused on improving mankind rather than saving it from extinction. Hermann might take up gardening. Maybe they’ll be commended for their efforts in the war, and maybe they’ll just fade with history.

 

Maybe they won’t settle down at all, never grow roots except within one another.

  
For now though, there is just Newt and Hermann, the inseparable travelling heroes sharing their Kaiju expertise with a bright new generation, and that is perfectly adequate.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Specialist' by Interpol: _I love the way you put me in the big house / If I get too surly, will you take that in stride?_
> 
> If you are so inclined, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/).


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